


A Discourse on the Inadequacy of a Duvet

by guns_and_poses



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 08:58:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guns_and_poses/pseuds/guns_and_poses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt: Sherlock keeps stealing the covers when they share a bed because he wants John to move closer to him when they are sleeping but of course doesn't want to ask. John gets annoyed at first until he realises what Sherlock wants and is more than happy to oblige.</p>
<p>  <i>John looks over at the folds of covers gathered on the opposite side of Sherlock's body, then glances up at Sherlock’s face. “You’re doing it again.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Discourse on the Inadequacy of a Duvet

 

 

The book John’s reading is not interesting in the slightest, which seems to be serving his purpose quite well. His eyelids are finally growing heavy, and he’s mere moments away from switching off the light and settling down to sleep. That is until a sudden draft of cold air raises goosebumps along the whole of his left side.  
  
“Sherlock.”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
John looks over at the folds of covers gathered on the opposite side of Sherlock's body, then glances up at Sherlock’s face. “You’re doing it again.”  
  
Sherlock doesn’t bother to open his eyes as he grumbles, “Attempting to fall asleep? Yes, I am. Something which you’re being extremely unhelpful with at the moment. Ironic given that it was your recommendation that I go to bed in the first place. I was fine.” The word ‘fine’ loses all trace of defiance as it’s stretched to almost indecipherable limits by Sherlock’s yawn. “Damn it.”  
  
John smiles sagely. “Sherlock, I caught you nodding off at the kitchen table in the middle of an experiment. You were seconds away from slumping face first into a container of beetle larvae. I think I’ll stand by my recommendation.” John turns back to his book and quickly flips through it indiscriminately, skipping past great clumps of pages until he’s blinking bleary-eyed at the back cover. “And you know what I’m talking about. You’re stealing all of the covers again.”  
  
“ _Cricket_ larvae. And I’m not stealing anything.”  
  
“Yes you are. As evidenced by the fact that I once again find myself bereft of covers.”  
  
“I already explained this to you three nights ago. In depth.”  
  
“You babbled something of a vaguely scientific nature and then rolled over and pretended to fall asleep.”  
  
“I did not _pretend_. And there was nothing ‘vague’ about that explanation. I merely pointed out the fact that up until a few weeks ago you were sleeping in this bed alone and that your, shall we say, _diminutive size_ did little to decrease the distance covered by the sheets and duvet. That coupled with the common tendency to occupy a more central portion of a bed when one sleeps alone explains why you have not previously encountered this issue.” Sherlock is slowed for only a moment by another yawn. “However, now the combination of my body displacing an additional volume of space underneath the covers and the shift of your sleeping position towards the perimeter of the bed have resulted in the inadequate coverage of the duvet which you persist in whinging about endlessly.”  
  
John’s laugh is just a wisp of breath. “Sherlock, I hate to shatter any um... chaste illusions you may have about me, but you are not the first person I have shared a bed with. This is the first time I've consistently experienced this particular problem.”  
  
A faint growl rumbles in Sherlock’s exhale. “Well perhaps those _other_ people preferred sleeping without covers and happily foisted them onto you.”  
  
John glances over at Sherlock once more. “I’m fairly certain I would have noticed that.”  
  
Sherlock’s eyes briefly crack open before closing again. “Would you have? You know you’re not the most observant person. Particularly when you’re tired.”  
  
John’s about to continue arguing his point, when he observes Sherlock in a pose he’s seen many nights before. Sherlock is on his back and his left arm, the one closest to John, is bent up and his hand is tucked under his pillow. John is suddenly struck by how it reveals Sherlock’s t-shirt-clad chest, by how Sherlock’s head and body are tipped slightly towards John in a way that he realizes makes both Sherlock and Sherlock’s side of the bed in general look particularly welcoming. Certainly much more welcoming than John’s own side of the bed, especially considering that Sherlock’s just pulled most of the covers over to—  
  
John grins, a quick flash of teeth and epiphany which Sherlock doesn’t see. “Yes, alright, you win. I really should know better than to argue with you.”  
  
Sherlock’s lips twitch. “Indeed.”  
  
“You’ve obviously thought this through.”  
  
The twitch becomes a smile. “Of course I have.”  
  
“And you’re absolutely right. As usual.”  
  
The smile becomes a smirk. “Now was that so hard?” Sherlock subtly adjusts the position of his arm and tilts his head up a little, readying his posture in what John now understands is partly smug expectation and every bit sincere invitation.  
  
“So obviously,” John continues “you would agree that the most logical course of action would be to buy a larger duvet so that this will no longer be an issue in the future.”  
  
The smirk vaporizes in a sharp inhale as Sherlock’s eyes fly open. “That’s not–” Sherlock slowly unfolds his arm from under his pillow, dropping it down over the covers and wrapping it around himself. “Yes,” Sherlock says, his jaw tensing as he turns his head away, his voice falling quiet, “That would make the most sense.”  
  
John smiles and shakes his head. He sets his book aside, turns off the light, and snuggles down into the bed. He shifts closer to Sherlock, feeling him start in surprise when John touches his arm to lift it and slide underneath. John presses his body along Sherlock’s side and lays his head on Sherlock’s chest. His left hand smoothes down Sherlock’s shirt to rest on Sherlock’s stomach, as Sherlock’s arm tentatively curls around John’s back.  
  
“Though I suppose,” John yawns, “that if we did that, then I wouldn’t really have an excuse to sleep so close to you. Which I’m rather fond of.”  
  
There’s a beat of silence as Sherlock’s arm tightens around John. Sherlock sighs theatrically, and it would be a sound of utter derision were it not so poorly disguising palpable affection. “You’re so sentimental, John.” Sherlock’s right hand finds John’s left, his warm palm covering John’s fingers. “Bordering on clingy.”  
  
“I am, aren’t I? It’s sickening really.” John shifts one of his legs and it’s swiftly entwined between both of Sherlock’s.  
  
“Mmm hmm,” Sherlock hums a kiss onto the top of John’s head. “Positively pathetic.”  


 

 


End file.
